


Don'ts

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Vignette, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco should know better than to investigate his father's cohorts, but he's a brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don'ts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wasureneba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasureneba/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this. 
> 
> Congrats Ravenclaw! We won the cup at [Hogwarts is Home on LJ](http://hogwartsishome.livejournal.com/). So I'm writing my fellow claws drabbles. This is for [wasureneba](http://wasureneba.livejournal.com/).

They told him not to come down here, but Draco didn’t listen. He’s never been very good at that. 

This is the one of the very few times that Draco wishes he was a good boy. He should’ve listened to father. Then he’d be upstairs, safe in his bed, instead of down in the dungeons, hiding, crouched in the shadows, hugging his toy dragon and willing himself to close his eyes.

Instead they’re wide as saucers. He doesn’t want to see the thing at the end. Can it see him? He feels like he’s too small and the darkness is all around him—he can’t see his own feet. But what do werewolves see? The beast sniffs at the air, and it fully rounds the corner, blocking off the stairs Draco came down. He should’ve never come looking in the first place. When Mr. Greyback said he was a monster, _he meant it_.

He stalks down the corridor in a slow, meandering manner, heading for Draco’s corner, but never quite looking at him. The thick muzzle is lazily sniffing at locked doors, paws scratching heavily along the stone floor, haunches taking up all the space. There isn’t anywhere for Draco to run. He doesn’t want to be a werewolf. He doesn’t want to be eaten by one. If he pops his dragon’s head off from squeezing it too tight, he hopes mother can spell it back on.

The beast stops a meter or so away. It smells horrible. It looks worse. Its head lolls slowly in Draco’s direction, eyes glinting in the moonlight from the small slit in the wall overhead.

It takes the other few steps forward, and Draco’s shaking so hard he can hear it. He thinks he might wet himself. He’s whimpering pathetically. If father could see him, he’d probably be disowned. He doesn’t care. The werewolf’s teeth are longer than his fingers. It parts its lips, but doesn’t quite open its mouth, not quite snarling. 

It sniffs at Draco’s head, and it nudges his cheek with its cold, wet nose. Now he understands why father let a beast stay in their dungeons. Who could say no to those teeth? He should’ve listened. The furry muzzle nuzzles into the side of his face, and Draco whines, hunching his shoulders and finally, finally, scrunching his eyes closed.

It licks him.

It _licks him_. Right up the side of his face, getting his skin wet and making his hair stick up, and the scent is terrible and it’s supremely gross. It nudges him again with its nose.

Then it pulls away, taking its hot breathing with it. Draco blinks his eyes open. The beast is turning and walking lazily back down the corridor. It stops at the end to look at him, and Draco whispers, “Thank you for not eating me, Mr. Greyback.”

It grins at him and disappears around the corner.


End file.
